Actor and Activist, Danny Glover

Moviegoers know him for his work in countless films from
The Color Purple to the Lethal
Weapon series. The world knows him for his passion and activism. A
native Californian, Danny Glover was born July 22, 1947 in San Francisco,
the son of James and Carrie Glover. He lived in a government housing project
until age 10. He attended San Francisco State University where he originally
wanted to be an economics major.

After catching the acting bug at age 28, he began taking
classes with the Black Actors Workshop of the American Conservatory. He
began appearing on the stage and honing his acting skills until his performance
in the New York production of Athol Fugard's Master Harold and the Boys
first brought him national recognition. While he made his film debut (though
uncredited) in Escape from Alcatraz, his first notable performance came in Places
in the Heart, with Sally Field and
John Malkovich.

It wasn't until Steven Spielberg's Oscar nominated
production of The Color Purple,
a film based on the novel by Alice Walker and starring then-unknown Whoopi
Goldberg, that he truly walked into the spotlight. Following that, perhaps
his biggest success in film came in 1987, when he was paired with Mel
Gibson for the immensely popular Lethal Weapon
film series.

Mr. Glover received an NAACP Image Award, as well as
an ACE Award for his performance in HBO's production of Mandela. He also received Emmy nominations for Best Supporting
Actor for his roles in the television mini-series Lonesome Dove
and for Turner Network Television's Freedom Song.

In 1990, he made his debut as executive producer in Charles
Burnett's award-winning and critically acclaimed To Sleep With
Anger, in which he also starred. He then went on to executive
produce HBO's America's Dream series, Deadly Voyage,
Buffalo Soldier and Freedom
Song. Since that time he has appeared
in numerous film and TV productions, in which he is noted for his warm
and affable presence. Celebrating real people who have shown courage and
bravery in moments of crisis, he hosted and executive produced Courage, which was selected by TV Guide as one of the Top Ten
Inspirational Shows on Television in 2000.

Also a full-time activist, Mr. Glover's causes span from
anemia awareness, AIDS crisis in Africa to mathematics education in the
U.S. His involvement goes far beyond the typical charitable write-offs.
In March 1988, the United Nations Development Program appointed him a
goodwill ambassador. He is a major supporter of the TransAfrica Forum,
the African-American lobbying organization on Africa and the Caribbean,
and the Algebra Projecta math empowerment program developed by civil
rights veteran Bob Moses.

In 1999, Glover launched a high-profile criticism of
New York City taxicabs after numerous instances of being passed due to
the color of his skin. He filed a bias complaint with the New York City
Taxi Commission, which resulted in Mayor Giuliani's initiation of
'Operation Refusal,' an anti-bias investigation of New York
City cabdrivers.

Not long ago, the award-winning actor and activist watched
in agony as his father battled chronic kidney disease. His father was
sapped of energy, constantly cold, tired, and weak; even a short trip
to the market had become an insurmountable undertaking. Doctors soon discovered
that his father also suffered from anemia. Soon after beginning treatment,
his father regained much of his energy and his previous zest for life.
As a tribute to his father, Mr. Glover is currently serving as the National
Spokesperson for Anemia LifeLine.

forward by Romney Snyder

ABILITY Magazine's Chet Cooper had the opportunity
to interview Mr. Glover while he was filming on location.

CC: Can you tell us a little about the film you are currently
working on?

DG: I'm shooting a movie with Whoopi Goldberg that
Ernest Dickerson is directing called, Good Senses.
Basically, it's about a family in a quest to move forward. In the
process, they are reminded there are sacrifices that you make and particularly
that those sacrifices are different by the mere fact you are black or
a person of color. They are forced to ask themselves how much of their
own sensibility, or collective sensibilities, do you give up? So this
is a story about how you see yourself in that struggle for success. How
that struggle is framed. That's what the story is about.

CC: You mentioned collective sensibility. Do you believe
there is a difference between the individual and the minority group?

DG: Yes, in a sense. You question how much of your collective
sensibilities you have to relinquish. Essentially, how much of somebody
else do you have to be? There is this notion of what is allowable, or
a presumed prescription of how you must behave, and you have to decide
to what degree you will embrace it. A person comes into the world, I guess
we all do, with various cultural safeguards. We all are born within some
sort of cultural, social, sociological as well as historical context and
they will dominate or dictate what is happening around us. Then, when
societal changes begin to happen, we are confronted with what we must
embrace, and who we have to be, to take advantage of the opportunity of
the change. Much of this is connected to the context in how you see yourself
in relationship to power. If you see yourself marginalized or diminished
by it, then certainly the leap that you have to make in order to take
advantage of those opportunities is often greater. For example, the leap
that women have had to make to assume some sort of position in the corporate
world has been tremendous and they've often had to relinquish some
of their own sensibilities in order to pick the mustard, so to speak.

CC: How do you feel the contexts of gender differ from
racial contexts?

DG: Racial is very different because you begin with a
feeling of 'less than' and there is a kind of bravado that
comes with that feeling. I believe there is an element of overindulgence,
or an enhanced capacity to embrace other cultural manifestations, and
have those be the focal point of the definition of yourself. All that
is connected into a deeply seeded social, cultural and political disenfranchisement.

CC: It's interesting that you mentioned the term
'leap.' I recently attended a L.E.A.P. event. The acronym
stands for, 'Leadership Education for Asian Pacifics.' The
event focused on how Asian Pacifics are dealing with their own struggles
in context with becoming part of our culture in the United States. I see
many similarities between what you've been addressing and their
diminished view of oneself because of the way the culture is set. Similarly,
I've been working with people with disabilities for over 10 years
and have seen the issues that a person with a disability who is also a
minority is confronted with. I am amazed at the stereotypes and the great
degree to which discrimination still exists.

DG: Well, the whole quest of validation begins with the
sense that fear is a diminished expectation and that we live in the shadow
of the larger social cultural context. I'm referring to what I call
power relationships, or empowered relationships. For as long as anyone
remembered, probably from as far back as vaudeville, African Americans
had been at the apex of any kind of cultural transformation this society
has gone through. Music has been a kind of lightening rod for whatever
transformations have occurred historically. Writers and cultural philosophers
have talked about this from the beginning, at least the whole twentieth
century, which any kind of mad movement in cultural reinterpretation has
been led to some extent through the music and rhythm of African Americans.
So how does that define people in terms of their relationships to power?
In terms of the sports world, every kind of sport that has been elevated
in some way to be a part of the twentieth century lexicon has been led
by African Americans. Wherever we go, whether it's boxing, tennis,
golf, football, basketball or baseball'.

CC: What about badminton?

DG: (laughs) Really though, all those things have fallen
in the preview of which people have conquered, excelled or created a heightened
sense of their own selves. To some extent, they've created a relationship,
or a validation. Now it becomes especially important when you are in the
shadows of a much larger social dynamic and social fabric, i.e. the examples
of people embracing the images of Jesse Owens after the 1936 Olympics
or the images of Joe Lewis after every fight he had, Archie Moore or Sugar
Ray Robertson... all these people have become enormous icons because of
their determination to succeed. Michael Jordan, Mohammed Aliyou
can go on and on and on... but what is significant? What does that mean
in a relationship to exercising fundamental powers to change peoples circumstances?
Absolutely nothing. Because the forces that demand or define the whole
area operate outside of that context. Let me explain. We will imitate
sports heroes and pay them handsomely, but they have no real power. The
sports heroes don't determine the federal budget and how the federal budget
is appropriated. When people actually reach past that struggle of diminished
expectations to achieve a heightened level, they feel like they are components
of fundamentally changing something. They realize they can fundamentally
change how they are accepted and how people respond to them. Whether they're
disabled, women, or minorities, there is some sort of commonplace.

CC: Sure...

DG: So, there are some similarities. First of all, in
terms of minorities, it's acceptance of who they are, and in changing
the whole framework that exists in that acceptance. In terms of people
that are disabled, it's that same framework of acceptance. The issue
is about providing access and acknowledgment from the standpoint of who
they are.

CC: Since you brought up living within the framework
of a disability, can you describe your experiences going through school
with dyslexia?

DG: I come to the table with many issues. One is certainly
dyslexia. I also dealt with the images I had of myself [in relation to]
what is considered acceptable, physically looking. The whole thing about
dyslexia, in a sense, is that it made me feel as if I was in some sort
unworthy to learn. I always felt that because I didn't have an appropriate
way of dealing with that, I could not get beyond my feeling of being diminished,
I didn't have an appropriate way of creating some kind of space
for myself which was very important.

CC: How did you ultimately deal with that diminished
feeling?

DG: One of the strengths I was fortunate to have was
a capacity for numbers. That in a sense helped me in the short term...
and I guess in the long term as well. It helped me focus on something
that I could do well. I won't claim that I didn't suffer any
less with reading or writing, it's just that I knew I did something
well and sometimes you just need just a little inch to feel good about
yourself. Honestly, no one probably ever noticed that I did a little better
on math than my other subjects. At the time, there was no real process
of diagnosing dyslexia. My seventh-grade counselor even told my mother
that in her opinionwhatever that meansthat I was retarded.
Those kinds of things can have some sort of effect on you in the long
run. Perhaps education begins with feeling that people really care about
you and maybe that's not part of what I felt.

CC: Do you believe those childhood experiences ultimately
played a role in drawing you to deal with social issues as an adult?

DG: Well, not directly and yet maybe indirectly they
did. If you can find value in yourself in doing something, then perhaps
it will allow you to increase awareness about what is happening around
you socially. When I saw peoplewho looked like mestand up
to the most brutal situations and circumstances that was something to
marvel at. They became people I was proud of, people I wanted to emulate...
they were fascinating. You can imagine as an eight-year-old kid watching
the Montgomery Bus Boycott unfold or watching young students take a stand
against segregation and being humiliated. It made me angry and proud at
the same time. So in that sense, social and political involvement came
about from first seeing those images as a child. I wanted to seek out
those people that reinforced me, or articulated something for me through
their actions.

CC: You witnessed some amazing events that changed not
only the future for African Americans but really for all Americans. Can
you sum up how these experiences have contributed to who you are today?

DG: What did I know at 12, 13 or 14 years old when all
this stuff was unfolding in front of me? What did I know about the South?
I'd visited several times but I knew precious little about the intricacies
of the working. I didn't understand the deep-seeded historically
brutal racism. I had grandparents who were in their 60s by the time the
civil rights movement went on, and to some extent they flourishedby
flourished, I meant that they survived. I knew they lived through it,
but I didn't know what all that entailed, what all that meant, you
know? My mother, through her own sensibilities, left there after graduating
from college. She knew there were greater possibilities that existed for
her and like so many people of color and she said, 'I'm leaving.'
So how was I able, given my whole diminished sense of self, to translate
these images into being a better student? I don't know, but I certainly
embraced them. Perhaps I embraced them long enough to understand one of
the most important things about standing for something is that you are
passionate about it. Maybe the passion is a bit stronger or a bit more
uplifting than often your ability to decisively articulate it.

CC: You were drawn early on to tackling social issues
and working within the community...

DG: Well, my early involvement was [with a] community
development project. It's common that those who are going to be
involved in community development would be those people that were the
victims of this adverse affect themselves. Yet, at one point they were
the ones who found an increased sense of themselves and pride because
they were struggling to get something. On the other hand, I'm sure
the people who took advantage of, and benefited most from, the Enron scandal
and the other similar world business scandals do not look at themselves
from the same standpoint. I am sure their first inclination is not to
embrace people who are in unjust situations (laughs).

CC: (laughs) No, probably not!

DG: That's not a part of [who they are] because
their inflated sense of themselves doesn't allow for it. Their inflated
sense of their own power and their ability to wield it doesn't allow
for them to have that kind of sense. I want to look at the world from
the eyes of Martin Luther King or Fannie Lou Hamer. I want to look at
the world from the eyes of people like Malcolm X or Paul Robertson, from
the people whom I embrace. I still wish for my eyes be trained as keenly
as theirs to look at the world. I assume that my survival is figuratively
dependent upon my understanding of the world from their vantage point.

CC: How did you feel about transitioning from working
in community development to theater? Did you find it difficult?

DG: I didn't think it was a difficult transition. Acting
is a platform that can become a conveyer for ideas. Art is a way of understanding,
of confronting issues and confronting your own feelingsall within
that realm of the capacity it represents. It may have been a leap of faith
for me, given not only my learning disability but also the fact that I
felt awkward. I felt all the things that someone that's 6'3" or 6'4"
feels and with my own diminished expectations of who I could be [and]
would feel. Whether it's art, acting or theater that I've devoted myself
to I put more passion and more energy into it.

CC: That's a good way to put it. Once your acting
career took off, how did you become involved with the United Nations?

DG: The United Nations is something that I've applauded
for much longer than I can remember. Maybe because in the long run, it's
been there for children with UNISEF, or they've supported women
with UNIFEM, and it's created what I believe to be an atmosphere
of possibilities. All the grass is level. Some of the most innovative
projects helping eradicate poverty or programs geared to changing a person's
perception of themselves in relationship to poverty and self-sufficiency
have been projects sponsored by the United Nations. All those have been
things that inspired a greater transparency on some levels but a greater
involvement by people around the world. If all the people in the world
could see all the people of the world, we would have a greater understanding
that we are just a very insignificant part of it all. While we are insignificant
in terms of six-billion people, we are significant in that all our voices
can be magnified and heard. I felt there was great possibility and wanted
to know how I could be a part of it. I had done some work with the United
Nations and I was obviously attracted to their programs so when they asked
me to be the first Goodwill Ambassador I readily accepted the invitation.